Your father is a renowned doctor who specializes in treating chronic conditions with his almost magical concoctions using rare plants. You follow him in his footsteps, accompanying him on his expeditions across Japan to cure the most toughest of con...
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"Ow!" Muzan yelled after you had tugged his hair a little too hard while brushing it out.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Kibutsuji-sama." You said as he grumbled in frustration.
If it were anyone else, he would've lost his shit. But it was you, so he was very careful about how he acted around you.
"Just... be careful." He said.
You nodded your head and said "I will."
As you gently brushed his hair, starting from the bottom and making your way to the top, you complimented him, trying to uplift him a bit.
"You have really nice hair, Kibutsuji-sama." You said.
"I'm jealous." You said with a little giggle.
It had taken you about an hour to brush his hair out, and you had tied it in a low ponytail so it wouldn't get as matted again.
"Y/n, it's time to head home." Your father said.
You frowned and looked at Muzan whose expression was still angry and sad.
"Is it time already?" You asked with disappointment clear in your voice.
"Unfortunately, yes. Our next appointment with Kibutsuji-sama is next week." He said.
You frowned and looked at Muzan. "Well, time goes by when you're having fun."
Muzan tried to bite back his tongue, but he just couldn't resist saying "I wish I could say the same."
Your frowned deepened at his words.
You tried so hard to bring joy into his life, and the entire time of being your fathers client you felt you had failed each visit.
He regretted saying that. He didn't like to see you frown. But it really was the truth. It was hard to enjoy yourself when you have a terminal illness.
"Well, I'll still stop by tomorrow, Kibutsuji-sama. Your mother told me it's your 19th birthday." You said, that smile returning.
You were always a beam of light, your smile always returned, even during bad times.
"Yes... it is."
"Well, I'll see you then. I'll bring you a gift." You said. — Muzan made it to his 19th birthday.
He had less than a year left to live— if what the doctor said was correct.
You had picked white spider lilies from your fathers large botanical garden, and weaved two bracelets out of thin pieces of leather and beads that were hand-painted by a woman in China during your travels alongside your father.
The leather to Muzan's bracelet was black, tied together in a modest bow with two small red beads on the end. The bracelet had large black beads with an intricate red floral design painted on each bead.
![botanical garden [ muzan x reader ]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/352308125-64-k952121.jpg)